In Golden Ecstasy
by Daedhira Dhna
Summary: War is gathering on the horizon, closer every day. Friends are ememies and enemies are allies. And amidst it all a secret is revaled. HPxDM.Slash.Don't like it, don't read it
1. Chapter 1

-1In Golden Ecstasy 

_Chapter 1: Maedha_

An owl sleepily waddles from its nest in the darkened woodlands as the Sun sinks completely on the horizon. Shaking its wings once to dry them, it launches into the night air. As it circles, it flies closer and closer to a great white building over which the Sun still lingers. Malfoy Manor is peaceful, every one of its occupants asleep but one. The owl pauses by a window, looking into a room. It is beautifully furnished, everything of the highest quality, but the owl notices none of this, instead fixated on a boy with blond, shoulder-length hair, lying on the bed. Appeased, the owl flies away. The boy was not changed. His Master would be disappointed.

Spotting a mouse, it decides to delay for a snack. Just as it closes in for the kill, screams rent the night air, shattering the peaceful silence, carving alarm out of safety, until drops of blood-red terror run in the minds of the animals in the Malfoy Grounds.

At once, the mouse jumps and scurries away, and, though its mind lingers for a moment on the prospect of the lost meal, the owl has lost interest. At last! Something to tell the Master. The screams could mean only one thing: the Malfoy boy had changed. A second later, he launches off the forest floor and into the sky. A flash in his right eye startles him as a blue-banded hawk crashes into him, the beak of his adversary blinding the same eye, then snapping to his throat. Exhausted, the owl gives himself up. The last thing he sees before he dies is a silver eye glinting in the blackness of his everlasting night.

Draco screamed. In her sitting room where she lay on a fluffy sofa, Narcissa Malfoy winced and waited for he husband to return.

_I just can't bear to see him in so much pain._ She commented to Lucius.

_Then don't look!_ Was the brusque reply. Then: _the pain is an important part of becoming one of the Maedhaï. Why do you think I performed "Crucio!" on him all these years? I wanted him to be accustomed to pain, to make it easier. And he hates me for it._

_I know, darling._ Narcissa sighed. _You'll just have to explain to him._

_Mmmm…_Lucius was silent for a moment then said suddenly. _I've got two owls, a deer and a brace of pheasants. Will that be enough?_

_Should be. _Mused Narcissa._ Are you coming back then?_

_Of course._

A second later, there was a _thump!_ and a blue-banded hawk landed, carrying impossibly in its claws the promised prey. The image of the hawk seemed to blur and change, until Lucius Malfoy drew his wand and began to help levitate the meat inside.

"What now?" She asked.

"Now? We wait."

Draco woke in darkness. Pain, still lingering in his muscles from the previous hour, washed over him as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Trembling fingers reached for a mirror. Taking a deep breath, he looked.

He had changed. His ears were pointed, his hair stretched to halfway down his back, and his eyes were blue-flecked molten silver. And he had claws a full inch long on the ends of finer-boned, slenderer fingers. Muscles all over his body were taut and accentuated, and bones in his cheeks had rearranged, giving his face a slimmer, exotic look to it.

There was a gentle knock at the door, then it opened to reveal his mother and father both carrying an owl and six pheasants each, with a deer (a doe, he noticed) slung between them.

"Are you hungry?" Lucius asked his son, who said not a word but fell on the raw meat. Whilst he was eating, the parents studied him. Mr Malfoy's expression brightened as he took in the silver eyes. "Draco, you are a dominant." The new Maedha stopped eating for long enough to say "Cool!", then resumed gorging himself on meat. "It is not just "Cool!". You are a dominant, which means you will be the one to seek out your mate. What will happen when you touch them?"

"There will be a sense of completion." Narcissa explained, as Draco was still eating. "Your mate, if male, will be wracked with pain twice as bad as what you have just been through. This will also last must longer; exactly 50 hours. The reason for this is that their body is rearranging to make it possible for them to bear children. They will need your support. It is advisable, once this is completed, to change them, if they are not changed already, and once you have explained. However, even before they are changed, as soon as you touch them they will subconsciously try to find you and be drawn to you in both a practical and sexual way."

Draco nodded, at last finished with the raw meats.

"Will you teach me to change form and hunt before I go to school, father?" He queried.

"Of course."

"Don't ask silly questions." His mother snapped.

He sighed.

"What's wrong, mother?"

"What are you going to do?" She cried, chewing her lower lip. "Everyone at Hogwarts will tease you, and _Dumbledore _will ask ridiculing questions."

"He'll have to wear a glamour, of course." Lucius said.

"No."

"_What did you say_?" His father shouted.

"No." Draco was defiant, his mouth set in a grim line. "I refuse to hide my heritage. It is something to be proud of. I refuse."

"Lucius, let him." Narcissa sighed.

"Fine." he snorted, making his way to the door. "Oh, and, Draco, son?"

"Yes, father?"

"Happy seventeenth birthday."

Harry woke in the dark before dawn, panting, trying to recall his dream. Draco had been in it, at Malfoy Manor, and an owl… An aching sense of loneliness washed over him, and one word sounded in his head over and over again in a never-ending mantra:

_Mate._

_H_e stubbornly ignored the thought away, deciding to catch another few hours of sleep.

Sleep was a slow visitor.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey, peeps!! Here it is, finally! Now, I know this v. short, but you will have to live with it - I have general writer's block at the mo._

_Story - in Golden Ecstasy_

_Chapter - II_

_Pairings - Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, eventual Ginny/Pansy_

_Disclaimer - I tried to steal Draco, but Harry came at me with the Sword of Gryffindor and I was forced to let him go. /pouts/_

_Here it is, then!!!_

_Enjoy!!!!!_

* * *

Harry Potter stepped off the Hogwarts Express, Ron and Hermione flanking either side of him. The faces that greeted him as he boarded the Thestral-drawn carriage were no longer joyful and light with anticipation, instead worried; hollowed and hardened by the brutalities of war. 

Draco watched from the shadows, stepping off his Firebolt II. He had chosen not to ride the Hogwarts Express that year - too many staring people - instead opting to fly. In fact, he had flown directly above the train, watching the Golden Trio and their petty play-mates bicker among themselves. The reason became apparent, as Mudblood and the Weasel sat snogging the entire journey. _Honestly, _he thought. _They were _this_ close to getting vertical in the train carriage. Can't they do that somewhere else? _He shook his head - that thought had not been his own.

Obviously Potthead -it was strangely hard to call him that for a moment, even in his mind - was not to happy with the new arrangement, wearing a particularly sour expression as the Weaselette twisted his head round to meet her lips, before responding in kind. For some unfathomable reason, Draco couldn't stomach seeing Potter snog the Weaselette, and was forced to risk exposure by lifting his Invisibility Cloak and dry-retching onto the side of the train.

The new Maedha contemplated climbing into the next carriage, which held Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and Pansy Parkinson. _No,_ He decided. _I wasn't on the train. Besides, Potthe - Potter - always makes his grand entrances. Why not me? A Malfoy, and so obviously his better._

Smiling evilly, the trademark Malfoy smirk fixed on his face, Draco swung his long, platinum-blond hair over his shoulder, re-arranged hi cloak - and climbed back onto his broom.

The Firebolt II careered and bucked wildly in the storm, but the drenched hands of the person holding it steady were gently firm. His matted hair clung to his face, and for one irrational moment, Draco wondered if he would have time to style it before his 'grand entrance'.

_Typical. _He thought wryly. _I am about to burst into the Great Hall in the middle of the feast, and am currently sitting on a bucking broomstick at the epicentre of a storm, and I am currently worrying about my hair! Oh, yes, and they are probably going to arrest me as soon as they see me on account of me nearly killing their Headmaster. _He regretted that almost as soon as he'd said it. _No! Don't think about that, or the torture that came after for my failure… _But flashes still trespassed through the boundaries in his mind, of screams and blinding pain.

At last, as thunder echoed overhead, Draco angled his broom toward the lights, and a moment later, after sending his broom, trunk and owl whizzing to the Entrance Hall, with a non-verbal, wandless spell (one of his new abilities) he hurried through himself, heaved a massive sigh and strode up to the humongous oak doors.

Glancing down at his sodden robes once more, he took a deep shuddering breath and pushed the oaken slabs away from him. Light, sound, and the rich scents of happiness and good food wafted out into the blue-black courtyard as the figure, touching his hair just once more, stepped directly into the beam of light.

O

Harry yawned once, scratched a particularly irritating bruise left over from the summer, and surveyed the Hogwarts Great Hall. Ron and Hermione, busily feeding each other cake and treacle tart, didn't notice his deep sigh. The same buzz and chatter filled the hall, but whenever any student looked up to the staff table and "Dumbledore's" seat, they trailed off, and one of several reactions crossed their faces. Harry was idly observing these an noticed an almost constant pattern; Griffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws went through a series of emotions: anger, fear, loss, and, as they looked over to the Slytherin table, anger again. The House in question glanced negligently up to the Head's chair once in a while, a smile filtering across their faces, then glee flashing like un-clouded lightning, replaced hastily, in the cases of those trained in "masks", by fake regret.

The Sorting had been over a while now, and as Harry turned to the girl beside him, he felt a momentary twinge of regret. Ginny and he had at last come to an agreement; they would continue their relationship- in secret . Only their closest friends, the Weasleys, and Hermione would know. But he still worried about the outcome of the relationship. He was dragged from these thoughts as she suddenly slippesd her arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately in front of the entire Hall.

"Ginny!" He hissed through tight lips. "What are you _doing_?"

"What does it loo-" His voice was cut off as the entire Hall fell silent. Harry sighed, and turned away to greet the cheers, boos and hisses that were inevitable. But they never came. Instead, there came a deep, booming knock on the doors, pulling Harry deep into a memory of a night, a storm, a booming knock, a cowering and a fat, beefy man with a gun… then that same man, that same gun, but coming down, again and again, setting his ribs afire with pain. He went rigid in his seat, lost in the memory - until, suddenly, white ;light burst through his eyelids; he was dragged, screaming, back to the present, and he saw, light spilling around it… _an angel_. He thought. There was no other way to describe… him. Blond hair streaked in waves of gold and silver, fell to his waist, silver-flecked, blue-grey eyes shone in the dim lights, and, even under Hogwarts robes, muscles were taut across his sculpted chest. Harry's eyes travelled to his face, the bones of which were finer, lighter, giving the face an exotic, elven look.

_Beautiful. _Resonated in Harry's mind, and for the first time he doubted his feelings for Ginny.

The figure looked up at the Head's chair, and out of habit, Harry searched the emotions on his angel's face. Sorrow, he saw; self-loathing and regret. And, deep below the impassive mask, he recognised fear.

His heart broke for the figure, and when it moved into the light totally, he craned eagerly forwards to see the face properly. Then he drew back into his seat, eyes wide, dimly saw, rather than felt, Ginny shaking his shoulder, dumb in surprise, hate and loathing, both self- and outer-. For in that second he saw the face, so different, and yet so familiar, and matched it to a name.

His "angel" was no other than Draco Malfoy.

* * *

_just a note - this is NOT Deathly Hallows compliant - it begins after the end of the sixth book. Dumbledore is dead._


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey, guys!!! Thanks to all of you who have stuck by me - I have had severe Writer's Block for several months, and with everything going on in my life, I just haven't had time to write, BUT here is the new chapter, finally!_

_Disclaimer: Sometimes Harry Potter belongs to me - and then I wake up._

* * *

Chapter Three 

"My Thoughts Are Not My Own."

Draco's eyes raked over the students in the Hall - his mate was here, somewhere, if only he could find her. _Not him. Definately not him._ He cautioned himself furiously._ What did Father say? Look for lust... oh, yeah... _It was then that he realised that every girl - and quite a few of the boys - were staring at him with something bordering on infatuation. _Shit! _He cursed. _This is not going to be at all fucking easy! _

He sighed.

Seeing Professor McGonagall to shocked to speak, he decided to get it overwith.

"Yes," He sighed. "I'm back."

"Mr Malfoy!" McGonners had found he voice at last. "What are you doing here? And in such a... form?"

She looked up to the order members that ranged up and down the Staff Table. "Well, what are you waiting for? Grab him!"

The teachers jumped up immediately, and a flurry of spells richeoted around him and off the walls. A chair leapt up to attack him; a net fell from a column where before there had a spider's web, the now huge spider clacking its pincers, and Stunning spells flew from all sides.

Almost immediately a hazy nimbus surrounded the Maedha, and every one of the attacks rebounded, flying back towards their creator. Seven teachers fell to their own Stunners, and Flitwick ducked sharply; the chair he had Charmed swept back across the width of the Hall, knocking the Sorting Hat unceremoniously onto the floor, where it lay, wriggling weakly.

McGonners raised her wand, and though the net closed around her as she struggled, the spider flew away with a bang, curving in a graceless arc over the tables.

It landed on the Gryffindor Table.

Weasel's face froze in terror, and the Mudblood put her arm around him comfortingly. Draco's face, however, broke into a rare smile and the nimbus-shield disappated. He strolled down the aisle between the tables, as the spider scuttled along the table top, scattering dishes as it went, before it pulled to a halt directky in front of Weasel-bee.

"Come on Wease-" And he looked directly into Potter's emerald eyes. They were filled with anger, warning, and a deep-set yearning. He backtracked. "OK, Weasely. Easy does it - I bet you couldn't get rid of it, eh. You're too... _scared_.

"I'd Vanish it if I were you, but of course it is a very complex spell." He waved his wand almost negligently and a goblet diappeared into nothing. "Bet'cha can't do it. Can'nt you best me Weasel? Bet'cha can't." He sneered and turned away, and in the moment, Weasel whipped out his wand, and pointed it at Drcao's chest. Something inscrutable crossed the Maedha's face and lingered in his eyes.

"Go on." He whispered, too low for anyone but the Golden Trio to hear. "Do it. Take your revenge, for you have a right to it. I've been waiting. I'm ready."

Then Weasel's quivering hand flicked the wand away, to point at the giant spider, and whispered three words in a tiny voice. Nothing happened for a moment, then the spider Vanished.

Draco had a dim memory of the Mudblood jumping on Weasel, clasping her arms around his neck in celebration, and of Potter clapping him on the back, but his eyes were for the Order members that swopped down on his turned back, manhandling him, dragging him to a side-door... That he could handle, but the clang of the door closing sounded just an little too much like the door of a dungeon.So Draco did the only thing he could in those circumstances.

He cried.

* * *

It had been a week since the fateful night Draco Malfoy returned to Hogwarts, and had been immediately closeted away from the other students, presumably to undergo questioning. Rumours spread like wildfire, some saying he was being put through torture, others claiming he had joined the Light. 

But however much people talked, it was just that; just talk. Life and lessons had carried on, work piling up, the same as ever, and Harry thought he was the only one who wondered seriously where Malfoy was. After all, he was _Draco Malfoy_; joining the Light would be the last thing on his mind, if only to spite Harry. Even so, the jet-haired boy hoped that he wasn't being tortured; doubtless he had gone through enough of that already, and Harry knew what it was like to scream until you broke...

He shook himself as he washed his face and hurried down the boys' staircase, desperately trying to get his hair to lie flat. He was greeted by a "good morning" kiss from Ginny, which he returned with fervour, and a chorus of "Hey, Harry!" from the others of his House.

"What have we got today?" He asked as they strolled down to breakfast. Hermione, who had already learned their timetable off by heart, responded with "Potions with the Slytherins, Transfiguration with Hufflepuff, History of Magic with Slytherin, and then Herbology with the Ravenclaws," all in one breath.

"When's lunch?" Enquired Ron.

"Honestly, Ronald, don't ever think of anything outside your stomach?!" Snapped Hermione, before announcing that lunch was after History of Magic, and dashing off with Ginny to discuss a new hair potion she wanted to try.

"Girls . . . are . . . _wierd._" Ron breathed, staring after them. "C'mon, breakfast this way."

Harry spaced out on the walk down to the Great Hall, and through breakfast, grunting as and when Ron's narrative of Bill and Fleur's wedding fiasco seemed to require it. When they eventually dashed into Potions ten minutes late, he barely heard Slughorn sadly removing points from Gryffindor, as he stumbled to his seat.

They had been working in pairs for a project they were due to begin that week, and as the class had an odd number, Harry had been ready to work alone - at least that way he wouldn't drag anyone down with his abysmal Potions making. It was as he began to sit down that he realised that this had obviously changed. Someone else was sitting in his seat. A curtain of blonde hair, streaked with gold and silver, fell over the boy's work, and an unseen hand scratched away with a quill. Harry gulped.

"Professor Slughorn, sir?" he asked tentatively.

Slughorn fixed him with an jovial grin. "Yes, Potter!"

"Um…there's someone sitting in my seat…" He trailed off as Slughorn's face split into an enormous smile.

"Malfoy." The boy raised his head, Harry recognised the boy from the night in the Great Hall, and his eyes met those of his enemy's with a peculiar _click _inside him. Slughorn motioned for Malfoy to continue, as if he had not noticed Harry's gasp, and Malfoy did so.

"I have just returned from questioning. Through no fault of my own, you are the only person without a partner so I shall have to work with you. I can only hope that I will be able to increase marginally the standard of your own abysmal Potions work. But let me tell you – should my grades drop as a result of this partnership, I will be most…" his eyes flashed silver. "_displeased."_

Harry opened his mouth to argue again, but Ron caught his eye, shaking his head. Harry let it go and slumped into the seat beside Malfoy, who returned to his work.

* * *

Draco sighed, letting his thoughts and senses roam again. His mate was here, in this room - he could _feel_ them, they were so close. And Potter, sitting so close to him, blocked every attempt he made to ascertain exactly which student was his mate.

_Idiot. _He snarled mentally at the Gryffindor sitting beside him. He knew about the "abilities" of Potter when it came to Potions, and he was determined not to be dragged down.

"Potter," He drawled in his most snobby, aristocratic tone. "I suggest you go and get the ingredients for the _Glorificus Letum." _

He looked puzzled. "I don't remember deciding which potion we were making, and-" he scanned the sheet. "-this is the most difficult potion on here."

"I decided for you, since your ridiculous Potions grades would suggest that you are unable to do it yourself, and we are doing the most difficult Potion on the sheet because I have already brewed all the others at some point." Draco turned away, cursing under his breath. His mate was_ here_, ignored, and here_ he_ was, have a civil conversation with _Potter_, of all people. He shook his head. "Potter, go get the ingredients – I'll set up the cauldron."

As Potter walked away, Draco pulled out his textbook, and began to read.

Each of the Potions that they had had the chance to make was made up of several different minor-Potions, each having to be brewed at different times; the _Glorificus Letum_ was more complicated than most, as it was brewed by the moon-times of a single month - crescent moon at mid-day, quarter moon at twilight, half-moon at sunset, and full moon at midnight. It was mid-day of the crescent moon, so providing that they finished the first minor-Potion without any slip-ups, they would have six days until the next minor-Potion's brewing, this time at twilight. Draco cursed: any time spent with Potter was time spent away from his mate, or finding her.

Carefully, he placed out a cauldron, with a carefully measured temperature of flame underneath, and waited for Potter to return.

Moments later, Draco nearly dropped the cauldron-full of water when a voice sounded over his shoulder, and the brunette in question returned. Pulling a much-battered copy of _Moste PoisonousePotiones _from his bag, Potter snorted in disbelief and began to add ingredients to the water. After watching him for a while, Draco concluded that away from the others of the Golden Trio, who bickered loudly in the background, Potter was actually a fairly decent Potions-maker. Realising this, Draco decided to let him do the work, and lay back with his eyes half closed, ready to jump in at the slightest mistake made by the Gryffindor.

His eyes were gently closing, to the sound of Potter counting off seconds in a careful, studious way, when he became aware that something was wrong. It wasn't until he looked up and saw Potter's hand, stretched out to pour powdered Dragon Claw into the mix, that he realised it was going to be put in nearly a full minute early – the Potion would blow up, with catastrophic consequences.

Draco never could remember exactly how he jumped up so fast, and grabbed Potter's wrist, to send the vial bouncing off to the side, because at that moment, in the second his fingers brushed against Potter's skin, three thing happened simultaneously.

Firstly, the vial crashed onto the desk, just missing the bubbling cauldron, and shattered on the hard surface.

Secondly, Draco's mind was suffused with a shining beacon of delight, and joy, swamping him in golden ecstasy, until he felt that his heart could hold it no longer, and tears of wonder ran down his face.

And thirdly, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and the Chosen One, fell to the floor, screaming as a fire sparked in his stomach, and engulfed him in agony, as everyone stared in horror.

Draco was jerked from his ecstasy by the screaming of the being that his majik had Chosen as his Mate. Without even a moment's thought, he bent down, picked Potter – _Harry _– and cradled him against his chest. He made for the door immediately, whispering a spell that had it crashing open, and was just about to step through when he was blocked by a whirlwind of scarlet.

"What have you done to Harry?" the Weasel shouted. "Where are you taking him? Leave him alone, you snake!"

"Step out of my way, Weasel." Draco uttered softly. "You can not help Harry. If you wish him to live, he needs the Hospital Wing, now – and he needs me."

The last words were muttered quietly, almost to himself, and when the Weasel heard them, he stepped out of his way; but his eyes shot like piercing daggers into Draco's back as he made his way down the Hall.

oOo

Draco was scared. Pott- no, Harry, had stopped screaming at his touch, but he still moaned and thrashed in agony. It was all Draco could do to hold him close and gently try to keep hm from plunging to the stone floor.

"Come on, Harry..."

As soon as he stepped into the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey let out a startled gasp and hurried over to them, waving her wand feverishly to all sides.

"Mr. Malfoy! Potter! What did you do?!"

"I did not do anything. My majik did." At her alternately confused and enraged expression, he elaborated further. "I'm not exactly Human, Madam Pomfrey. I am one of the Maedhaï. Our majik Chooses Humans as our Mates."

"And Potter is..."

"Exactly."

"But... why is he in this pain? You must help him! I have Potions... anything you need..." she jumped up and began magicly calling objects to her randomly.

"I cannot." She stopped, looked at him aghast. "The Maedhaï's majik calls to an equal, not an inferior. It is rare that a woman is strong enough in her majik to be a Mate. Two in every three partnerships in the Maedhaï society are male. We would have died out long ago, if the submissive of the pair did not become..." he trailed off.

"You mean..."

"Yes. When this pain is over, Harry Potter will be able to bear a child."

* * *

_Thank you a million times to all my reviwers - please stick by me - and most of all, thank you to my lovely new beta,_ _xdancingfirex._

_Daedhira Dhna_


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry its taken so long to get it to you! The fifth chapter is underway!_

_Thanks to all who reviewed - even flames are loved! Please feel free to criticise as much as you like._

_Disclaimer: I didn't write Harry Potter, obviously - Draco and Harry would have been together, not with Ginny and Pansy!! And _I _wouldn't have orphaned Teddy Lupin with a single stroke of my pen! (Sorry to all those who didn't know his Mum and Dad died (xxx - please forgive me...xxx) BUT all plot, extra characters and ESPECIALLY the Race of Maedhaï are mine, d'you hear me, MINE, all **MINE**! mwhahaha!!_

_Ahem... yes... well, on to the story_

* * *

In Golden Ecstasy

Chapter Four: I Can't Tell Him

Madam Pomfrey gaped. "So... he has to go through this? There's no way to stop it?"

Draco sighed. It seemed he was going to have to explain the basics.

"No. We can't stop it, but we can ease his pain. There are several things that will work - but only briefly. Only one thing can deaden the pain for any length of time."

"What?!" She was remaining calm, he noted, but only barely.

"Snakelime, and a potion called _Rotture di Oro."_

"_Rotture di Oro_? Its Italien, isn't it? I think I have some, but..." She jumped up, and made off towards the office. she had just stepped into the doorway when she turned. "Mr. Malfoy? What was the cure you mentioned, that deadened the pain for a decent amount of time?"

"Ah," Draco paused. "The presence, and, indeed, touch of the dominant Mate is a mechanism designed to relive pain, negative emotions and stress. We had to have it, otherwise most submissives would not live through the process."

"I see, so you need these other things so that you can leave, to eat and sleep." She nodded, understanding. "I'll be back in a moment."

When she had left, Draco sighed, and took a moment to regard the face of the Chosen One. _How could I have not realised?_ Now that he thought, it all fitted: the inability of his to insult Weasley with Potte- Harry's eyes boring into him, the nausea as he saw Potter and Weaselette eating each other's faces on the train, and his unconcious resentment to referring to Potter as "Potthead". They all pointed to the same thing.

Harry moaned again, thrashing wildly, and Draco pushed the sweat-drenched hair back from his Mate's eyes, taking the submissive's hand in his own. Immediately, the body on the bed quieted, and though he still twitched violently and cried out occasionally, by the time Madam Pomfrey returned with the _Rotture di Oro_, he simply appeared to be gripped in the midst of an alarmingly painful nightmare.

"If you could give him the potion now, Madam Pomfrey, I'd like to have a shower and change." He looked down pointedly at his clothes, which were damp from Harry's sweat, and a little bloody in places where the Gryffindor had caught him by mistake.

"How much?" Was the matron's answer, as she unscrewed the cap. Silently, Draco took the bottle from her and poured a healthy dose, grabbing Harry's hand again as he let out a scream.

As soon as the potion was in Harry's system and seemed to be working, Draco dropped his hand gently and left the room, walking not to the dungeons, but to the portrait of Barnabus the Barmy on the fifth floor. Inside, the Room of Requirement presented a shower, with eight different taps, a walk-in closet boasting finer clothes than his own in the Slytherin dorms, and towels whose fluffiness rivaled the pillows in his bedroom at the Manor.

When washed and dressed in a pale, stormy-blue T-Shirt that showed his muscles, designer jeans and a newly washed and ironed Hogwarts robe, Draco set off at a dignified walk (other people were in the corridors, after all, and he couldn't risk his reputation by running, now, could he?) back to the Hospital Wing. He had barely set a foot inside the door before he heard the Mudblood shrieking.

"Madam Pomfrey! You can't give him that!" She was cut off by the Weasel saying soothingly: "It OK 'Mione. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey knows what she's doing."

"No!" Granger gasped. "You don't understand! It's _Rotture di Oro_! I've read all about it! Its name means "tears of gold" because it slowly turns every bodily fluid to molten gold until the victim cries, literally, tears of gold. Its a Classified A Illegal Substance, because it's such an effective poison. It'll kill him, Ron!!"

Draco decided that at this point it was best if he stepped in.

"No it won't," He marched fully through the doorway, and ignored the Mudblood's gasp, and Weasel's howl of rage. "You can sit at his bedside for the next two days if you like - it will relieve his pain for short spans. In exactly -" he made a show of checking his watch. "-forty-six hours and twenty-four minutes, the pain will subside and he will wake up." He paused. "But, I warn you, if you want him to live, I'm not going to leave either. And I need skin-on-skin contact for any time when the potion is not in him - if you want him to live."

The Weasel stepped up to him, his nose two inches away from Draco's forehead. "That sounds an awful lot like a threat to me, ferret."

Draco commended himself on keeping his demeanor. "And, as always, Weasel, you are incorrect. It is not a threat. It is a statement of fact."

"Oh?" The Weasel stepped closer.

"Ron!" Mudblood Granger snapped. "What I'd like to know is why you can't leave and why we can't just keep him on the potion."

"Finally, an intelligent question." Draco directed his answer at the wall rather than her. "Firstly, the potion is addictive, and secondly, it is not as effective."

"As effective as what?!" Weasel was on the defensive, and, as usual, stumped.

"Let me show you." He made to walk towards the bed, and when they blocked him, he rolled his eyes, crouched and jumped; before they realised what he was doing, he was standing by the bed, and motioning for them to come. They moved instinctively, standing either side of him as if to protect Harry.

"Observe," He advised silkily. "How even with the potion in his system, he still moans and writhes in pain. But if I do this," And he placed a gentle, graceful finger on Harry's face and traced the line from forehead to jaw. "He stops. My touch deadens the pain, Weasel. I'm not going to tell you why, so don't even try asking, but the fact remains that if you wish to have him in more pain than necessary because of your idiotic House rivalries, then that is your affair." He removed his finger, and Harry cried out. That clinched it for Granger, he could see. She wasn't going to make Harry suffer anymore than possible, even if it _was_ Malfoy himself who threw the lifeline. Weasel still needed convincing. But Draco had one last card to play. "Oh yes, and, if he doesn't have me to deaden the pain, your Golden Boy has a high chance of going insane..." He paused for effect. "Or dying."

"OK," The Weasel squeaked, sounding very much like a weasel at that point. "But you do anything to Harry, and I will roast your balls over a slow fire."

"Fine by me," Draco sat down, holding the pale hand gently in his own, then said, too low for any to hear: "If I hurt one atom of his body, I will deserve it."

They sat in silence for a while, and Draco noticed the Mudblood staring alternately at him, then at Harry. Ignoring the Maedhaϊ instinct that screamed at him to defend his Mate, he caught her eye, and stared hard until she looked away.

Suddenly, she leapt up as if burned, took one final glance at Harry, announced in a very high-pitched voice: "I have to go to the Library!", and ran out.

Weasel gazed after her, obviously thinking the same thing as Draco, possibly for the first time in his miserable life.

_What was that all about?_

* * *

Hermione panted as she dashed into the Library, ignoring Madam Pince's shout of _"Shouldn't you be in class?"_, and taking a right turn into an aisle of book, skidding to a stop in front of a worn shelf. Carefully, she selected a huge book, well over five inches thick, entitled "_Magical_ _Creatures from the Nineteenth Century Onwards_".

Settling into a chair, she trailed a finger down the contents page. "M, m, m for.." She found it, turning to a golden page with a silver-green heading in bold print.

**_The Race of Maedhaï_**

* * *

Weasel leapt up, calling for Madam Pomfrey. "Its getting worse... oh, Merlin's balls, it's getting worse..."

Draco winced as a particularly violent spasm rocked the dark haired figure, and gently began massaging his Mate's temple, still holding his hand in his left. "Weaselbee, shut up."

It was now nearly four in the morning, and Weasley had panicked every time Harry had so much as twitched. Granger had still not returned, and while Draco could not say he would be ecstatic about her company, at least she might be able to calm the blithering idiot beside him down.

* * *

_'The Race of Maedhaϊ has inhabited our World for millenia. Humanoid magikal creaures, their powers include shape-change, immensely fast reflexes, improved sight, scent, hearing and speed, and the ability to use wandless magik in a matter of hours - wandless majik being an ability many human wizards struggle for years to master._

_'Maedhaϊ mate for life, and, in fact, they have no choice about who their partner is. The link between the two is called a soul-bond, and it is designed to call to the other until they meet, or indulge in a relationship, coming into effect after they both come of age on their seventeenth birthdays._

_'At this time, the natural-born Maedhae will Change, and come into his birthright. He (or occasionally she) will have longer hair, down to the middle of their backs, streaked with gold and silver (blondes), blue and gold (brunettes), or red and green (black-haired). Their eyes will be flecked with either gold or silver, depending on whether they are a dominent or a submissive. _

_'The __Maedhaϊ mating revolves very much around these two positions: the dominant, with silver eyes, will find the Mate, and initiate the relationship. Whereas the submissive, with gold eyes, can live happily without ever meeting his/her mate, the dominant will slowly weaken and die if he/she feels that he/she has been__ rejected or does not succeed in finding his/her mate._

_'Location and identification of the submissive Maedhae is acheived firstly through smell, and then, once the candidates are narrowed down to just a few, by touch. _

_'The reason for this touch is that Maedhaϊ hold more majik in their bodies and minds than many people can physically cope with, causing the Maedhae instinct to choose for their Mates only those who can handle this. Those chosen are usually male, meaning that, if it were not for the ability to hold a child in their bodies that the touch of the dominant gives these submissives, the Maedhaϊ strain would have long ago died out._

_' The transition that occurs with the first touch of the Mate after both have come of age lasts 50 hours, during which the womb grows, attaching itself to the anus, and the victim writhes in agony. The touch of the dominant Mate, and the administering of a potion (Rotture di Oro) or a herb (Snakeline) can soothe the submissive, with the toch being ultimately more effective. Submisives do not grow breasts, vaginas or any other external female organs._

_'The feeding habits of the Maedhaϊ include...'_

Hermione jammed the book shut and onto the shelf, breathing hard. She knew. She was right. Draco Malfoy was a Maedhae, and Harry... Harry was his Mate.

* * *

Draco was pulled from his reverie by Granger - he had decided after long thought that if he was going shag Potter - no, Harry - manners decreed that he at least attempt to call his best friends by their names, and not insult them... unless they really got on his nerves... which Weasel seemed to do just by breathing.

Granger burst into the room, grabbed Draco by the arm and snapped: "Come. Quick. Harry'll be fine for a few minutes."

He followed her, bemused, attempting to shut out the cries of his Mate, to an empty room.

"I know." Was the first thing out of her mouth. "You're a Maedhae, and he's your Mate. Now-" He opened his mouth and she held up a and to stop him. "- frankly, I wish I could just wait for Harry to wake up, and then turn my back on you, and forget all about this. But I can't leave you to die. Harry would never forgive either himself, or me."

"So we're just going to wait until he wakes up and tell him? Just force him into it?"

"We won't have to force him. He won't be able to leave you to die."

"I'm sorryGranger, I can't do that."

She turned to him, face shocked, but a strange delight glimmering in her eyes.

"What?"

"You called me Granger."

"And?"

"And I still don't trust you, just the facts... but the facts all point to you telling the truth, so... we're telling him, but you touch one hair on his head in the wrong way, and Iwill makeVoldemort look like achild's nanny in comparison."

Draco nodded, and watched her go. He hadn't expected her to be so quick at working it out. He'd underestimated her. Again. In a single, effortless movement he pulled his wand from its sheath on his left forearm, where it lay over the Dark Lord's vile tattoo, and spoke a single word:

_"Obliviate."_

"I'm sorry, but it has to be his choice... I rather die... Hermione."

Then he steadied her on her feet, and walked with her back to the room where his Mate was waking. 

* * *

Its done! This chapter took SO long! And then I had to send it off to my beta. But I'm asking here: I'd like to have two betas for this story, sothink you have something to add to this storyleve me a message in a Review or on my profile.Also, if yo on't fancy sharing the job, you can become a beta for my other long term fanfic, _Broken Hearts, Broken Dreams_. Just go to my profile to read it. 

Reviews are loved!! I will give out cookies!

Cookies to all my reviewers!!

Daedhira Dhna

XXX


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